


There’s Blood On My Hands

by MedicateMe



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Clothes Stealing, F/M, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Luther is a cry baby, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sharing a Bed, Spooning, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedicateMe/pseuds/MedicateMe
Summary: One night upon trying to save Klaus from a home intruder, Vanya accidentally murders a man. This changes her in more ways then she ever thought possible and sparks something in her father she had never believed he had...compassion.
Relationships: Reginald Hargreeves/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 21
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this will be a sour story and it’s exploring a rather dark topic. I’m going to try my best to write it appropriately but forgive me if it isn’t as good as it could be. I also don’t approve of anything I write of and it’s mainly for venting purposes.

She awoke to a bang. It wasn't like anything she had ever woken up to before. It was loud, harsh, and almost seemed to echo around her despite happening over a minute ago.

Then it happens again and through her drowsy state, it starts to sound familiar. It actually registers in her mind and then it comes down upon her like a ton of bricks.

That was a gunshot.

She sat upright with a slight tremble because she could hear, faintly in the distance, what she thinks is yelling. Did someone break-in? Are they here to hurt them?

She can't think of anything except the negatives as the yelling grows and there's muffled screaming. She presses her hand against her ears, breathes heavily, and tries not to cry. It's all too much and then she's hit with guilt.

Her siblings could be in trouble and all she's doing is cowering away like a child. She isn't, she's not some little baby anymore incapable of helping. She may not be extraordinary but she can't just sit here and let them die can she?

She gets out of bed, her heart picks up in her chest and some part of her is unable to face what she's doing. She's going to face the fire that's erupting somewhere. She has to, she couldn't live with her self if she sat and did nothing.

Her sibling's doors are ajar but no soul can be seen inside. It's all dead, cold, and does nothing but make her heartbeat in her ears. Each time she takes a step and feels the cold floorboards and the yelling get louder she wants to turn around.

Turn around and hide underneath her covers like she always does...but she doesn't. She can't.

She reaches the stairway and looks down only to see a man holding Klaus, pushing a gun into the side of his head. Another man is fighting Diego and another Luther. Those fights seem to be going in her sibling's favor but with the gun to Klaus's head none of that matters.

She walks down the staircase slowly, praying that the floorboards don't creak. She doesn't know what she's going to do, or if she'll just be in the way but she keeps telling herself this is the right thing. 

Something glimmers off one of the lower stairs, a gun lays there, discarded by one of the men or her siblings. She doesn't care but she snatches it up and is greeted by a creaking echoing from beneath her feet.

She points the gun at the man, as he turns to her, still holding the gun to Klaus, and his eyes widen, his mouth goes to open, and he presses the gun ever so harder into Klaus's head. She doesn't know what happens next really, but she feels the gun give a kick and it falls out of her hands. The man groans and he falls over, blood pools around the man and he stays silent, unmoving, just a lump on the floor.

Klaus falls to his knees in the blood, his eyes glassed over and a sudden smile on his lips. He says nothing.

A blue hue appears in front of her before Five steps out of it and grasps her shoulders. "What did you do?" Five asks her, his eyebrows furrow in anger. 

"I had a plan you...you idiot!"

She's shaking so hard that tears fall down her cheeks before she can even comprehend his words. "I'm sorry..." her voice cracks, her eyes flutter, and his fingertips dig into her shoulders.

Everything else is silent. The other men are caught and subdued, their eyes scream horror and she hears one of them mumble that this wasn't supposed to happen.

"I'm so sorry."

She starts to sob, her chest constricts and she tries takes a step backward but Five stops her. "Is he okay?" She asks, looking past Five to the man that's laying on the floor, motionless. 

"Please tell me he's fine."

Ben comes out of the living room shadows and looks down upon the man with little interest. His chest is wiggling and then a look of disgust overtakes him.

"I just wanted to help. He...he was going to kill Klaus."

Five's look shifts to something else and his grip lessens. "Vanya," he calls out her name, just looking at her with new concern.

"I...I killed him didn't I?"

He lets go of her shoulder and she finally takes a step back. She can smell his blood, she can smell the gun powder in the air, and her hands feel tainted even though nothing covers them.

She killed him. She pulled that tigger...and it was so easy.

"Vanya-" Five goes to say something else but stops. A hand is pressed to her shoulder with heavy intensity and she looks up to her father.

"I'm so sorry," her voice barely comes out of her throat but her father looks down upon her with a piercing glare.

"Don't be," he tells her, his voice toneless and his eyes burrowing holes into her heart. "If you had hesitated...Four would be dead right now."

She swallows and wipes her eyes from tears as her father continues walking on without another word to her. It doesn't help ease her heart but she tries to keep telling herself that.

She killed that man to save Klaus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is heavily inspired by other works such as ‘Seeds Of Hope,’ (By TwistedViolets), among others. 
> 
> I’m hoping to have an abundance of twists and turns, dark things, and of course eventual comfort. I’m having fun writing this story so far though hehe.

"I was sleeping," she repeats again to another officer...this little She fib her father told her to say. Even though it's wrong, and she doesn't deserve to be let off the hook...she does as she's told.

The officer says nothing, only writes something down on a little notepad before moving on to questioning her siblings. She sits there on the stairs, her head in her lap, and her hands shaking without any signs of stopping.

She really did it.

She killed that man.

She hears the cops talking, a little bit of conversation here and there and it makes her sick. The bullet was a perfect shot into the man's heart...so perfect that they say it couldn't have been done without professional training.

It was an accident...or maybe it wasn't. Maybe she pointed that gun there knowing what would happen. But her hands tremble even more at the suggestion and she knows she can't trick herself like that.

She saw that look in the man's eyes when he noticed her. That look of fear, that look of...horror. That man hesitated, he held that gun against Klaus's head and did nothing. It was because that man never intended to do anything right? That's why her siblings waited so long because they saw that too didn't they?

She feels even sicker now. The contents of her stomach rolls and she hopes she's wrong. That man was going to kill Klaus, he was right? Even her father says so.

There are little mumbles of conversation around her. The cops question her brothers and sisters but none of that matters because their father has already told the chief everything and nobody ever questions him.

She just wants to throw up. Each and every time she so much as breathes puke travels up her throat and she's forced to swallow it. She can't get sick here, it'll be too suspicious.

She couldn't handle it if she was questioned about it anymore. 

She isn't and the cops take their leave, seemly content that this was a normal home break-in and a case of self-defense on one of her sibling's part. She isn't sure which one took the blame, she's been so self conscious that she didn't even hear who did it.

She finally looks up and she's so distraught from what she sees. Her brothers and sisters are so...normal. Klaus looks a little shook up but other than him they don't seem as hurt as she is. She is absolutely horrified at the events that took place but her siblings don't even blink at the puddle of blood still on the floor.

It's almost like...they've seen this before, death, murder, blood in large quantities. She's so afraid of herself and what she just did yet, no one looks at her like they are. They only cast looks of concern and she doesn't know if she deserves them after what she just did.

A hand is placed on her shoulder and she peers up at the owner. Her mother gives her a motherly smile, one which is small and soft. "Sweetheart..." Her mother says to her, almost like she's asking her a question. 

Her heart thumps, her hands start shaking again and she looks away before her body gets any funny ideas. Her mother sits down beside her on the stairs and wraps a hand around her shoulder before pulling in into her chest, allowing her to cry against her soft and warm exterior.

She tries not to cry so much but with each pat of her head and back and each one of those small kisses against her forehead makes it so hard. But she tries by biting her teeth, closing her eyes tightly, and taking so many deep breathes until breathing itself feels weird.

"You didn't mean to," her mother says to her in a calming tone, her voice seems so smoother, almost like butter, but it's as fluffy as a cat whose owner brushes its hair daily. She can't help when she sobs harder into her mother's chest, and her mother doesn't seem to mind giving extra comfort to her.

She cries so hard, unaware of the glances her sisters and brothers give and especially of the glare her father shoots her...yet, they say nothing. She knows what she did was terrible...and no matter how long she lives she'll never be able to make up for that man's life.

She killed him in cold blood, even if she didn't mean to.

"Three," Her father's scolding voice comes, and it's only then that she realizes Allison was about to comfort her too. "There is no need for that," Her father continues, making sure to keep his eyes on Allison because she was given an order.

Allison turns away and only gives a sad shrug of her shoulders. She doesn't know what's wrong with her, why her hands seem so dirty or why killing the man keeps repeating and repeating in her head, she can see it so clearly, a filthy distorted vision of herself pulling that trigger.

She is a murder.

___

Her mother scrubs the blood off the floor on her hands and knees. But no matter how much cleaning solution she throws down or works into the floorboards, a metallic smell still wafts through the air, suffocating her very lungs.

She sits on the living room couch, clenching her skirt between her fists, and she just can't keep her eyes off of the stain her mother can't get out of the floor. It's still red, still so disgusting looking, and...and each time she blinks she can imagine that man lying there, dead.

Her father scolds her siblings for their terrible performance. How slow they acted...how if they had acted just a second faster she wouldn't have been forced to do what she did. They all stand in a line and look towards the floor with mixed looks of self-disappointment and general upset. 

Her mother stands and holds out her blood-covered hands in front of her, avoiding messing up her dress, before she enters the kitchen to wash them off. What really makes her feel strange though, as she looks at the bloody stain on the floor...is that her mother wasn't there to protect them.

She has protecting protocols and yet...she wasn't there to protect them. Where was she? What was she doing? Why...why didn't she come sooner? She doesn't know what she's thinking anymore...it's not like her mother wasn't there on purpose. Father probably had her staying up late working on one of his science projects.

That has to be it.

Her father gives one finally click of his cane and her siblings give a small bow of their heads before walking off. She sits there, tightening her fists as her father finally looks upon her, disappointment shines through his normal disinterested look.

"Number Seven," he calls to her and she stands, her knuckles begin to turn white from how hard she's squeezing now. This is it. Her father is going to tell her how much of a monster she is, how disgusted he is at her actions, how stupid she is for trying to help. "Seven," he says again, a hair softer than before, but she barely recognizes that, for her self conscious nature is almost consuming her.

He holds his cane in his left hand as his eyes lock on her fists, on her shaking hands, and he seems to be ever so concerned. An unnatural thing to see upon his features, so she assumes she sees it wrong, he must be so upset with her.

His right hand reaches out and she can't help but freeze in place. But the hand doesn't come across her cheek or her shoulder, or even her arms, no, it gently grasps her fists and stops her from clenching them together so tightly.

"There is no need for self-harm," he tells her, his voice is steady and no longer soft. It is so harsh to her ears that she tries to step away but his hand finds purchase in hers and she can't move away. "Seven," he says again, repeating himself almost as if he thought she didn't understand.

She can't take this. Why won't he just hit her? Why can't he just yell at her and get it out of the way? Her heart is too sensitive for this waiting and waiting for the glass ball to drop an: shatter. She just, wishes it's all come sooner...but if it did it wouldn't be a punishment, would it?

"I'm sorry," she finally spits out, it tastes sour in her mouth, so familiar at this point that muttering it makes her feel ill. "I...I killed him."

"Do you wish to know why you did such a thing?" He asks her, his hands dropping hers and a grimace falls over him. "That man hesitated in the heat of battle and left you the opportunity and you took it. Because of your actions, your brother has survived to see another battle."

She did save her brother...but somehow that doesn't seem to be enough to soothe her self conscious. The part of her that just keeps screaming that she's wrong and a monster.

She takes another deep breath before her father starts to walk away. He's leaving without punishing her...and she doesn't know why it makes her feel so much worse knowing this.

___

She goes to bed early that night, unable to face her siblings who face extra training. They all seem so upset about it but not the fact that she murdered a man. The fact that invisible blood coats her hands now.

She cries herself to sleep. The tears seem to fall so naturally down her cheeks, and they caress her just as good as her mother does. She just doesn't want to feel anything...and she hopes that she'll wake up with amnesia.

She doesn't want to remember what she did. That disgusting act.

She falls asleep and dreams of nothing but darkness. A darkness that is cold, a void more like, and she just keeps getting drawn further and further into it until she's consumed by the fact that her body is freezing.

It's at that point, when the cold gets to be too much, that she awakes. She's Groggy, her head pounds, and she just wants to go back to sleep. She rolls over, only then does it hit her that her legs are bare...and not just that, she's not wearing any underwear.

She doesn't remember that then off...so did she kick them off? She sits up right, her head spins for a moment before she scans the floor. She doesn't see them on the floor...but perhaps her mother already picked up the evening laundry as she slept? She went to bed so early that it's possible.

She gets up and slips on a pair of underwear and pajama pants before laying back down in bed. She rolls over, and her brain replays her finger pulling on the trigger again and again rather than what she just woke up too.

It's no wonder why...it's so scaring, watching the life fade from someone's eyes as they fall onto the floor in a puddle of their own blood.


	3. Chapter 3

She awakes sometime later, not much later, the sun hasn't even begun to rise, but she's wide awake anyway. She sits up and stretches her arms above her head and gives a yawn, only pausing in disgust when she notices her hands.

Her filthy hands...

Her father can say what she did was good and punish her brothers and sister instead but he can't erase her guilt. The sudden dropping feeling when she feels the gun in her hand again, heavy with its sin, and she can imagine being splattered with warm blood...even if she wasn't.

She wishes it would stop repeating in her head. Why can't she be rid of this guilt? This self-conscious voice that keeps on squeaking even when she tells it to shut up.

She walks out of her room, her eyes adjust to the darkness, and she looks upon her siblings' doors. All closed except Klaus's, and when she presses on his door even so slightly so she can take a quick glimpse inside. She's met by the sight of Klaus, his hands behind his head, and his eyes locked on the ceiling and he seems to be wracking his brain for something.

She gives a small knock on the door and once Klaus looks at her, his indifference turns to disgust and he rolls over. He faces his wall and ignores her but she's used to it so it doesn't phase her. She walks inside, her right hand gripping her left hand as she digs her nails into her skin. 

"Klaus," she calls out, unsure if shes welcomed. She just wants someone to talk to or...she doesn't know anymore.

Her brother sighs and turns to lay on his back. His eyes still piercing on the ceiling but he soon gives up on that when she stays silent.

"What?" He says, bites out to her, and she takes a step back when her heart jumps. Klaus looks at her, deeply, before his eyes soften and his glare isn't as harsh. "Sorry," he says, almost starts to laugh as his stern posture melts away. "You know I don't mean it."

She gives a nod as he pats the bed beside him, asking her to come lay with him. She does and he smiles at her, but it seems so fake, like he's trying so hard to be normal but he isn't...and he shouldn't be.

She could have killed him. She held that gun, an object she's never even touched before, and pointed it right beside him. It could have been bad, it's no wonder he's nervous.

"I'm sorry for intruding-"

"Nonsense," he grins before rolling over on his belly and kicking his legs. "Whatcha wanna talk about?" He asks her so sweetly and... girlish that she can't help but giggle. "Hey!" He scolds with a frown, "don't laugh at me."

"I'm not," she giggles some more and he ends up sighing again.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing," she says, letting the nice warm atmosphere turn harsh and cold.

"Fine," he says, still trying so hard to seem okay. "Aren't I always?" He says afterward, more bitter, more shaky, and she can't help but be drawn into his woes.

"Oh Klaus," she reaches a hand out to comfort him, place it on his shoulder or cheek, but he turns away and shakes his head.

"Don't."

"But-"

"No Vanya."

Why not? Why can't she touch him? Is it because he sees how tainted her hands are? She wraps her hand around her chest instead and they sit there in silence.

Even as Klaus tries to laugh it off and ramble on about other things, it never gets less tense...at least not to her.

__

"We need more home defenses," Five rambles to her, unapologetically she might add. "If we did we wouldn't be so vulnerable."

She nods hopelessly, just playing with the strings of her violin as Five pushes all of his thoughts on to her, without even asking if she wants to listen. 

"It's so idiotic," the word hurts her because he called her that, right to her face, and he looked upon her with such unrivaled disapproval. "What's the point of mother if she isn't even around we need her?"

She puts away her violin in its case, clearly seeing that her lesson is going to go nowhere with the way Five is simmering. "Yeah," she doesn't really know what else Five wants her to say, or if he's really expecting a response.

"Right?" Five finally takes a seat after all his pacing and complaining. "And you," he glares at her, "you should have stayed in bed."

She nods.

"You're not supposed to accept that." Five sighs and she just holds her violin case against her chest. "You did good but..." her heart flutters but Five doesn't continue.

"But?"

He's giving her a calculating glance but he just won't say anymore. No matter how long she looks at him expectingly, he keeps his mouth shut.

___

"Where did you get that from?" She asks Luther that question, the one everyone else refuses to ask. A bruise is starting to form on his cheek and he seems to be in a bad mood.

"None of your business," he replies dryly to her worrying. He taps his pencil off his worksheet a few times in annoyance. She looks away to her worksheet and sighs. 

She knows she's poking at a sleeping bear and it's better to just drop the subject but...it's eating her alive. The very thought that her father could have given that to him, all because of her incompetence. 

She killed that man not him.

"Did..." she hesitates, bites the side of her cheek in a mix of fear and self-consciousness. "Did dad do that?"

Luther almost bears his teeth at her and his eyes become piercing lasers. She tenses up and almost drops her own pencil in surprise.

"No," he snaps at her, glaring heavily. 

She stares at him, at her brothers and sister who stay out of it. Because Luther is Number One and nobody should question him. Yet, Five rolls his eyes and Klaus is humming away beside her, uninterested in the conversation.

She drops the subject and starts to write on her worksheet, just trying to make herself seem small and dull.

Luther goes back to work.

___

It keeps repeating in her head. The act she committed, as if maybe she just can't believe it. She doesn't know why it's such a hard concept to grasp or why her siblings seem to grasp it so easily, like it was as simple as breathing air, although to her it's more keen to drowning.

She sweeps the dirt ground outside, clearing out any rocks, and she gazes at her brothers and sister, who spar with each other. Nothing new, nothing different, but it just seems to be so strange to her now. Knowing that they're training to fight other people and if necessary kill them. She never really thought about, in fact, she tried to avoid it but now...it's so disgusting to her.

Each life matters, even those as small as a ladybug and no one has the right to take away a life.

She sighs and leans on her broom, her hair falls down her face and tears creep into her eyes. She closes them and takes a deep breath. It was an accident, no one is upset at her, it'll be okay. 

Someday she might even forget.

"Number Seven."

She jumps back and begins to sweep again, swinging the broom back and forth in front of her. "Sorry," she squeaked out and her cheeks caught on fire from his glare.

She hadn't meant to become sidetracked like that.

"You seem distracted," he says to her but his attention drifts back to her siblings. 

"No," she whispers back, hoping her voice sounds confident.

He doesn't say anything for so long that she figures he's dropped the conversation. But then just as she's finishing sweeping he starts to speak again.

"It seems to me that we need to have a discussion," he tells her so matter of factly that there is no room for arguing. So she just nods lamely and he raises his hand.

Her brothers and sister stop fighting immediately, they almost seem frozen in their movements. Klaus pinned to the floor by Allison, Diego growling at Luther, Five smugly in the middle of teleporting away from Ben, then they line up.

"An less than adequate performance."

"Sorry," it's a collective mumble.

"Dismissed," Her father said afterward which surprise her as well as her siblings. Usually, he'd give a lecture on their incompetence and failures but...he remains stoic as they leave.

"Come now Seven, we've got a mighty big schedule to keep."

She nods, holding to broom close to her chest as she follows behind him. He walks inside, his cane clicking off the floor methodically as they walk and she realizes they are going to his office. Which is a bad place to go. Usually, you get sent there for punishments.

She's scared, just a little, even though he told her it's only a discussion. She still has her doubts and that stupid nagging voice in the back of her head.

He opens the door for her and she walks past him, looking to the floor as she goes along. She sits in a chair at the front of his desk and he sits in his behind his desk. A typical scene really, and it just makes her heart feel funny, almost like it's nervous too.

He takes out a notebook...or journal she thinks he fondly calls it and begins to write. Only telling her that she isn't even worth his attention.

"Number Seven," he starts, his eyes still locked on his writing. "What has overcome your thoughts?" He asks her in a softer tone, one that contradicts his very actions. His voice tells her he's open and concerned but his body language tells her he's uninterested and she should stay quiet.

She swallows roughly when she speaks, unsure of what signs she's supposed to listen to. "I-I know that you-you said what I did was good-" he looks up and shuts his journal, seemly irritated with her already.

"I never said that," he says, straightforward and harsh. She tenses up as her right hand instinctively scratches her left wrist. Again and again as she tries to calm herself. It's so hard to be the one getting yelled at, her heart is so sensitive.

"Sorry...I just thought-"

"You thought wrong."

She scratches harder and takes another deep breath. Her eyes threaten to water as he throws such harsh words at her. She's not used to it at all, he's never this harsh with her because she always keeps herself to the background. It's so much harder to withstand than she thought.

It's so hard because her father always has to be the smartest man in the room and if that's not enough he's always so smarmy about it.

"I just," her voice wavers and his eyes glass over with something she thinks is anger or perhaps disappointment.

"Seven get on with it," he says sounding even more irritated. And it just causes the irrational part of her to spark, the part that says he's going to hit her or yell until she's sobbing on the floor. She digs her nails into her wrist and has to stop herself from hissing.

"I'm having nightmares," she lies because she's panicking now. "I've had them for a while," she lies even more and digs a nice hole for her. 

He's going to kill her because lying is bad and he has to know she is. Yet, even as his eyes seem to narrow and his mind no doubt had processed this information. He stays silent, only pressing a hand on his chin as if in deep thought.

"Really?" He says after a moment, after he pretends to think about it. "I haven't noticed any changes in your sleeping patterns until last night," he says, in this voice as if he's really considering it and her breath hitches. He knows she's lying right? He has to and he's going to beat her and yell at her.

"Perhaps you are afraid of another break-in." He says almost in a questioning tone as he lays back in his chair, his hand still on his chin. "You do sleep rather heavily, don't you? Are you afraid that you won't wake up in time? That someone may attack you or your siblings while you sleep...again?"

He states all these things and her heart beats like crazy. She didn't even fear these things before but like a seed, he has planted them and they are beginning to grow too fast for her to stop them.

She's afraid. 

She nods to him but remains silent. She doesn't know if she could even speak now without breaking down in tears.

"I suppose this all does make sense after all you've just been through a rather traumatic experience. I propose a solution," he says in a business tone, like he always speaks. "How about you stay with me a few nights? I can monitor your sleeping much better here and you'd be better protected than in your living quarters.” 

She is tense, her eyes have gone wide, and she can't help that her heart pops in her chest. She doesn't even know if she's breathing she's so still. It just seems like some sort of fairytale. Her father's bed as always been off-limits, no matter the circumstances.

Is this a trap? She goes to shake her head no but he is speaking before she has a chance.

"Good," he says, stands and walks around to her, and when she stands he pushes her to the door. "Go along now and after dinner bring your things here." He seems less irritable, almost, but somehow she still shakes so badly.

"What things?" She asks in a small voice...because she honestly doesn't know. She doesn't own many things.

"A pillow...or a blanket perhaps," he tells her before pushing her out his door and shutting it in her face. She stares at it for a long while, unsure of what just happened or if she's excited or scared. She doesn't know.

On one hand, she's always wanted to share a bed with him, late at night when she awoke from a nightmare. But those days were so long ago that shes now convinced he'd kill anyone who so much as dared to sit in his bed.

...

She turns around and takes another deep breath. Only looking at her filthy hands and the red welts on her wrist. Somehow she thinks they belong there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a little nonconish but not much. Thank you for reading and commenting I appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little tiny bit of non con in this chapter and sweet sweet Vanya is so innocent it shows on so many levels.

At dinner, her father doesn’t look at her, and although that isn't exactly abnormal, it just feels weird. He never stares at her, never glances for more than a second, but usually, they make eye contact at least once.

It's just a fact of life, when they sit across from each other at the table.

But as she chows down on her hot dog that has been conformed into smiling lips, and her serving of mashed potatoes and mac and cheese, which make the eyes of the smiley face her mother is so fawn of, he doesn't even look at her. He just sips on his tea and watches his food as if he believes it may just jump off his plate.

Something is bothering him. Perhaps he is beating himself up, absolutely outraged that he had given her such an offer.

_Her, an ordinary nuisance, sleep in the same space as him, an extraordinary man?_

The contents of her stomach mush together as her thoughts bring her great discomfort. Is that what he's thinking? Is it? Is he going to kick her out when she comes to his room? Will he tell her that she's not just ordinary but now filthy?

That's right. She wants to laugh as she lowers her head, and it keeps growing inside of her. The sudden ridiculous of her thoughts...that somehow killing someone has made her less pure of a person...and that is probably true to some people but to her family...it's not any truer than the sky is orange.

Her father finishes his tea and still, his face remains stuck in a simple motion of thoughtful disappointment. Even her siblings take notice of it and the fact that his plate remains untouched before him.

It is out of the ordinary.

____

She holds her pillow and her blanket, and avoid her father's eyes because she feels unwanted, even though he invited her, even though he gave her no choice, even though-

"Seven, are you planning on standing there all day?" He asks her, widening the door just a hair as his eyes glisten with growing frustration at her actions. 

She shakes her head quickly and walks past him and he shuts the door behind her. She sits her things on his bed and makes a nice little spot for herself on the left side, but then it hits her that he could prefer that side. Sweat accumulates on the back of her neck as she pats her pillow in an idle motion, just waiting for him to snap and tell her she's an imbecile for really believing he wants her to breathe in his air.

Nothing comes from him.

He simply removes his monocle, sits it aside on his desk before taking off his jacket, then he starts to unbutton his shirt- and she turns around and shoves her hands over her eyes. She's blushing so much, although she knows that it's not weird for boys to take off their shirts. It just...is because no one ever does that.

She wants to say something but she unsure of herself so she stays silent, only listening to the rustling of clothes as her father slips into bed entire. Although she doesn't know if she's ever seen him them...it's been a long time since her siblings and she had stopped trying to say good night to him.

He's was always too busy.

"You can stop averting your eyes," His voice is stern, tired, and she hesitates before she looks back. He is wearing a teal outfit, a lot like the one she is, and she just can't help but be enamored with it...

His eyes grow heavy on her body and she looks away because he doesn't appreciate her staring. She knows, because she would hate it if he stared at her. 

She picks up her blanket, and his, and gets underneath both, although she doesn't think that was her father's original intention. She just didn't think it would be natural to only get underneath her blanket.

He follows suit, getting in the right side, but he's still leaning up, and he grabs a journal before he gets in bed. He opens it and begins to write, silently. She just stares, blinking aimlessly at his hand that writes beautiful words and his eyes that seem so focused.

She closes her eyes and tries to sleep although she knows it'll be hard. She isn't expecting him to go to sleep anytime soon, or for his bedside lamp to turn off, but she keeps her eyes closed, her breathing even, and she knows she'll eventually sleep.

And she'll be safe and protected now.

She feels better now. Just the fact that he let her so close to him makes her feel special and warm inside. Her hands feel less dirty, her sins less heavy on her heart, and her eyes more and more tired.

She falls asleep feeling clean.

____

She awakes, groggy and disoriented. It’s dark, and she can’t see a thing, which is out of the ordinary. She rarely wakes up like this unless something happened, but the room is silent, and she can’t figure out why she awoke.

She closes her eyes.

Then she feels it, something touching her side, her hips. It doesn’t register for a while, that it could be anything more than her imagination. Then as she rubs her face into her pillow, and she turns a little, she bumps into a warm body and it sobers her up much more quickly than she thought possible.

Somehow, it had just slipped her mind. She’s sleeping beside her father...and that’s just...strange. Her skin starts to heat up from embarrassment as she lays there on her side with her father just inches away from her back, she can feel his body heat...and she just can’t move.

She isn’t afraid so much as she’s just uncomfortable. She doesn’t know which things would set him off. What if she accidentally touched his hand or his arm? What if she accidentally turned in her sleep and begun breathing on him? What if she snores?

She closes her eyes and counts to ten, trying to get her mind to stop wracking over stupid things like this. Then something settles on the side of her stomach, slowly creeping drop and around before pulling her back.

He pulls her snug against him and she’s engulfed with warmth although he’s usually cold to the touch. She wiggles for a moment before giving up. His hand seems to be going nowhere, and although the position is quite strange, It doesn’t immediately set off her flight or fight responses, only really makes her brain wrack for more questions.

If he awoke right now what would he think? Would he kick her out of bed? Would he ignore her when she says he was the one who pulled her in? Would he...would he think she did it on purpose?

It comes to her more slowly, as she’s laying there and the warmth is starting to make her sweat so much her back is getting damp, that she thinks this might be a position lovers sleep in. Klaus had spoken of it before she thinks, maybe, she isn’t sure if this is spooning or not.

Suddenly she’s self-conscious and again she attempts to wiggle away and this time, she feels something hard nudge against her butt and she stills. Unsure of what it was, or if she really felt it, or why suddenly her father’s hot breathes are being blown against her neck. She doesn’t know but she just wants to roll over to her side because she's really getting uncomfortable.

And she wiggles again, simply trying to get away, but all she really does is rub against the hard thing, while only slightly loosening her father’s grip on her stomach. His breaths tickle her neck and when she stops again and lays down, her body is pressed even tighter against his than when she started.

She feels it, clearly, hard and...almost moving against her. It’s not hard though, the more she’s pressed against her she realizes it’s soft and not pointy, but it’s so warm and she thinks it might have twitched against her. And then it just sorta falls on her, the realization of what it is.

On the fact that it’s her father’s erection digging into her butt. It’s so warm, hard, and so...grossly moldable. She can’t even describe the amount of dirt and grime that begins to fill her veins when she feels it twitching again.

She knows it isn’t his fault. It’s just naturally disgusting to her, because she’s so young and innocent but she can’t be mad because of something that happened while he was sleeping.

So she tries again to wiggle away, just content enough to forget it ever happened, but her father’s hand becomes harsh against her stomach and he presses himself harder against her until she can feel the complete outline of him.

She wants to throw up. It hits her hard and suddenly. “Dad?” She basically whimpers out, like some kind of beaten dog. She starts to smell him, his old musky scent that always made her feel better, even though it fills her siblings with dread.

“Sleep,” he says tiredly, without any emotion behind his words. But his head dips closer to his neck and then she feels something against it. Lips, he’s running his lips across her neck and then he opens his mouth...he starts to suck on her skin.

It almost hurts. She yelps from a mixture of pain and surprise...she doesn’t understand what he’s doing but she knows it’s disgusting to her. She hasn’t bathe tonight, her skin has been so sweaty and gross.

Why is he sucking on her neck? Why does it sound so disgusting?

She shuts her eyes and whines when he sucks harder, when it really starts to hurt. “Dad,” she mumbles, she almost starts trembling as she places her hand over his, just beginning to dig her nails into his skin. “What are you doing?” He sucks enough harder and his tongue presses against her skin. “That hurts,” tears prick her eyes and he stops, and the noise was absolutely disgusting.

Her skin starts to feel prickly and she can’t help but be confused.

“Leaving my mark,” he says to her, whispers so filthy in her ears that she can’t help but start to feel scared. She doesn’t understand.

“I don’t...understand.”

He stays silent for a while, her neck burns, and his erection begins to be pushed against her ever so often. She just can’t fight the discomfort, the growing that whatever this is...isn’t normal.

There’s something wrong with this picture. Why did he do that to her neck? Why does he keep pushing his thing against her? Isn’t that...filthy?

“I don’t expect you to, not yet at any rate.”

She frowns, digging her nails gently into his hand if there is such a thing. “Please let go,” she asks him gently, and nicely, with her sweetest voice.

His hand is removed from her, surprisingly so, and she scoots back to her side and closes her eyes. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and she can still smell him and feel his skin against hers.

She tries to sleep, but it’s hard. Because somehow she thinks she’s just been...violated or something. Like just with his touch she’s been made dirty but she can’t really comprehend why.

Was it inappropriate? Is spooning an only couple thing? Why did he suck on her neck? She feels so disgusting yet, she’s unsure if she is supposed to feel this way. She doesn’t have much of a sexual education...and that leaves her so naïve.

She eventually falls asleep, feeling filthy all over again, except it isn’t because of the blood on her hands, no, it’s because of her father. And she hates herself, she really does, because he would never hurt her, not like that, and she has no reason to feel so filthy.

But she does anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

She awoke in a daze and before she could even get out a yawn or stretch her limbs, her father gently grasps her shoulder and pushes her to stand. He then proceeds to boot her out of his room and shut the door in her face.

She just stood there, starring. Still groggy and half-awake. She gives a good stretch of her arms and wiggles her fingers before beginning to walk back to her room, only really guided by the need to change clothes and get ready for breakfast. It isn't because her clothes are all sweaty...and they have a particular musk ingrained in the very fabric. No, of course it's not that.

She supposes though that it's to be expected, her father probably smells like her now too. 

And like most things in her life, nothing is easy. For in the hallway is Klaus, brushing his teeth and running his hand through his bed head. "Mornin," he says to her, chipper, and foam starts to form in his mouth and some drips down his lips but he doesn't seem overly concerned about it. "Hello?" He leans in near her face, spitting a little on her as he speaks and she is rendered speechless.

It is strange really. She doesn't know why she's suddenly hesitating to speak or why her mood has completely taken a nosedive. "Vanya?" He sings her name in a questioning toon as his eyes gleam with something

"Hello?"

She finally gets her wits about herself and answers. "What?" He swallows the foam and licks his lips as he smiles.

"Where have you been?"

That's it. That's the reason her mood has been ruined. She didn't want to be asked that. She really just wants to forget about last night. Write it off as one of her stupid dreams but she knows more than anyone it was real.

"I was sleeping in dad's room," she answers and his smile drops. He stops brushing his teeth and just stares at her for a while.

"I'm so sorry," he says to her, a long frown runs across his face and she can't help but to tilt her head in confusion. Klaus puts a hand on her arm and pulls her into a hug and all she can do is accept it.

"What?" She whispers against his neck, perplexed.

"Listen, Vanya," he starts to say, rubbing a hand against her back. "You didn't mean to...do it. Nobody is afraid of you or anything. Don't let him make you think that."

She pushes against him and when he leans back she just shakes her head. No that isn't it. Her father isn't making her sleep with him because he thinks she's dangerous. No, that's not it at all.

She goes to open her mouth and tell him as such but she's interrupted.

"Number Four, Seven, get dressed."

She gives a quick nod to her father's figure in the shadows before she goes to her room and gets dressed. She doesn't like skirts as much as she wished she did but they've always been what she's worn. Her father has strict clothing policies after all and she had no intention of fighting them like Klaus sometimes did.

__

She just sighed against her hand right hand while itching her neck with her left. She sits against the courtyard door as she watches her siblings spar. Diego against Luther, a battle that's lasted years. Allison and Klaus fight but it's not much of anything because Klaus is more interested in talking than fighting. Then there's Ben and Five who fight, sorta. Ben never uses his power and Five uses his too much so there's never much punching.

She just kinda watches and listens. The cold feeling of bitterness hits her and settles in her stomach. Being left out is hard to accept. Being forced to watch your world stay the same while your siblings expand is hurtful.

Her father stands in the middle of the training chaos. He stands, observing too, and for what it's worth he looks like he belongs there. With a simple flick of his wrist and a ring of the bell, he can stop all of the fightings but...he chooses to wait.

Diego stabs a knife beside Luther's head and Luther head butts Diego. Blood runs down from Diego's nose but he doesn't even flinch before he throws a punch into Luther's stomach. Luther sputtered and cough up the contents of his stomach on the ground, making a muddy mess.

Their father rings the bell and every motion stops. "Don't be a baby," Diego says to Luther while wiping the blood from his nose. "Real men don't cry," a look of disgust crawls across his face as tears run down Luther's face.

"Shut up," Luther mutters, covering his eyes with his arm.

Allison and Klaus give each other a playful flick on the wrist. They laugh a little and that's it. Ben and Five give each other a look and they move on. They all do. There's no real malice between them but...for some reason, Diego and Luther just can't drop it.

Just like she can never truly get over the truth that she killed someone.

"Number Two," their father says, clearly not happy that Diego is making Luther so upset. Luther is his favorite after all. "That's enough."

Diego rolls his eyes before standing, leaving Luther there to soak in his own self-doubt.

She stands, brushes off her bottom as her siblings and father leave. She walks over to Luther and crouches beside him. "Are you okay?" She asks him, quietly.

"Fine," he takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes before sitting up. "I'll be fine."

She nods and gives him a little pat on the back. "It's...it's okay to cry," she tells him but he doesn't respond. Her words don't mean as much as Diego's do. 

They never have.

__

"Can I ask you a question?" Ben asks while staring at her all strangely. His eyes seem to narrow at one spot and his hands that had previously been dusting have halted.

They are just doing a little dusting. Not a punishment per se, but their father did want to make them feel some sort of shame for their terrible performance. She wasn't included but she chose to help anyway.

As she often did.

"Yes?"

He walks over to her and she stills, a duster in her hand, and a heat crawling over her cheeks. He stands in front of her and taps on her neck, in a spot that's been itchy.

"Is this a hickey?"

She blinks a few times before tilting her head to the side. "What's that?" She says to him and then he just kinda loosens, becomes less serious.

"Oh, must not be one then." He says with a sigh before turning around and beginning to dust again. "A hickey is a couples thing. You suck on someone's skin and leave a bruise," Ben explains, kinda, he doesn't really look like he wants to.

But that's what it is, isn't it? Her father gave her that, didn't he? Why would he do that? Didn't Ben just say it was a couples thing? Her stomach drops and she just keeps on dusting while trying to ignore it.

__

Then it comes to night and she really wished it hadn't because she doesn't want to sleep next to her father, again. Not that she's entirely convinced something weird is happening but she can't deny that mere thought makes her uncomfortable.

He's already dressed in night entire by the time she gets there. He's even propped up in bed writing and when she lays beside him he doesn't even flinch. 

This is something she never dreamed she could have. Her the least favorite child getting something as wonderful as this? To share a bed with him although it had always been completely and utterly off-limits. It's so just unbelievable that she can't stomach complaining about it.

She Doesn't have the right to.

She can't tell him she found the situation last night uncomfortable and she can't tell him she dislikes his body warmth. She can't say anything because she's too afraid he'd be angry.

She sighs and turns over, closing her eyes although his lamp makes the room way too bright. That's fine, she just pulls the covers over her eyes and tries to relax. It's a little hard to do so because laying like this, smelling him, feeling the warmth behind him, all she can remember is him sucking on her neck and pressing himself so closely against her she thought she might suffocate.

It was uncomfortable.

"Good night," she mutters in some attempt to normalize this. She receives nothing back.

She might have fallen asleep. It's hard to say really. She laid there for so long with her eyes closed just listening to his writing that she can't be sure. She can't help but think she's afraid, somewhere deep down, that if she'll sleep she'll wake up to something like that.

She turns around and faces him. Her eyes take a while to adjust to the light and they barely focus but she can read a little of what he's writing, although they aren't supposed to. It says something about Number Four being useless and his struggle to get aquatinted with the dead.

She just watches him write and a new fear comes about her. What if Klaus is right? What if her father is only letting her sleep here because he thinks she's too dangerous to be left alone? It makes her feel dirty again.

She shuts her eyes and refuses to open them. Sleep, she just needs some sleep and she'll feel better.

__

She awakes to light shining on and at first, she scrunches up her nose and rolls over. She lays there for a while but she just can't go back to sleep. So she opens her eyes and blinks a little, only realizing that it's morning and...the bed is completely empty.

Her father has disappeared. She doesn't remember him leaving and it leaves her with a pit in her stomach. She tries to ignore the feeling, just act like it doesn't exist but it does as she hates herself. She is way too much of a heavy sleeper.

She makes the bed. She was probably overreacting about everything, wasn't she? That first night had to be an accident and nothing more right? She fluffs the pillows a little before walking to her room, only stopping in front of her mother's paintings to admire them a bit. 

They are beautiful and she could understand losing yourself in them. Behind her the door creaks and in walks her father than the rest of her brothers and sister, all dressed up and proper for an umbrella academy mission. It's quite strange how the mere sight brings her mood from good to bad to worse as she just feels that bitter feeling of jealousy consume her.

Her father takes off his coat and her mother takes it. Diego has a cut on his cheek but it's small, insignificant. Klaus has a few bruises but he doesn't seem too concerned with them. Everyone else looks fine, although they could be hiding an injury, it happens more than she wants it too.

Despite all of her jealousy she still cares about them deeply and can't stand when they get hurt. She gets all teary eyed and stays by their side until they get better which they hate with a passion.

She sighs as she leans against the wooden railing. Her father talks a little, a little scolding, a little praising, and a little disgust. It's all a mixed bag of emotions and she isn't quite sure how her siblings sort through it all because she's sure if it was her she would be crying.

Being scolded always makes her feel like a disappointment and she hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things aren’t always gonna be this simple hehe. Probably gonna be a little bit of a sad next chapter.


End file.
